My Lucky Stars
by Asuki-sama
Summary: There's always that time in your life… Oh, marriage can be so bittersweet. (AU, no powers)


_For you amazing people that deal with my slow updates and flimsy excuses, I wrote a brand-new Buttercup/Butch short chapter dedicated to you guys! It may become an actual post one day but for now here's (what I pass off as) a well-written chapter!_

* * *

 **My Lucky Stars**

* * *

"Stop it, Butch, it tickles!" Now, Buttercup wasn't one for squealing but…her asshole of a husband was giving her the time of her life. An oxymoron if you've ever heard one. Talking about morons…

"Butch! I'm serious!" Well, _maybe_ her "seriousness" was _slightly_ marred by a twitching grin and one relentless husband. "Stop kissing my stomach, you know it's my weak spot!" She demanded weakly, border-lining on an actual threat if you took into account the suspicious gleam in her eyes.

Her persistent husband finally gave the object of attention rest to look up at his twinkle-eyed wife. "You know you love it~" His eyebrow wiggling was almost too much for her. The idiot was incredibly stupid but, god, did she love him. "Oh, come now, don't be prude." He continued, "We've been married for almost a year now."

The emerald-eyed beauty wrinkled her nose at the brunet. "'Prude', really? You've been hanging out with my sister too much. And don't mention that mess of a marriage, _please_."

"What," he stated innocently, "If _I_ remember correctly, we ended up sneaking out of that god-forsaken wedding and got married at court. And soon after…we snuck over to our new apartment and –" he deepened his voice, "focused on some _extraneous activities_."

Buttercup almost blushed at his blatant innuendo. Almost. Damn, marriage was really softening her, huh? "Ugh, you're disgusting." She pushed him away but he caught her hands and stole a kiss. _Damn,_ she did _not_ notice him inching closer to her at all. Marriage really _was_ making her soft.

"Talking about extraneous activities…" he whispered softly in her ear, making her all too aware of their position on the bed. Her eyebrow twitched again.

"Yes, talking about extraneous activities, we need to talk." She nonchalantly pushed him away again. He almost whined at the rejection. And here he was about to have some fun, too.

"What is it?" He smirked, "Am I just too magnificent for you?"

"Magnificently impotent, you mean?"

Butch choked and sputtered at his wife's biting reply. She took one look at his face and burst out laughing. Well, 'laughing' wasn't exactly what she was doing. 'Cackling maliciously' was far more accurate. Maybe she _wasn't_ getting soft, after all.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist, you aren't impotent – yet." She chuckled a little more to herself as her counterpart found himself speechless.

"Anyways," once her laughter subsided, she continued unforgivingly, ignoring her husband's sputters of contempt, "we seriously need to talk. The topic of today is…kids." Now, if Butch wasn't choked up already, he genuinely thought that he needed the Heimlich maneuver.

"Wah…?" How intelligent. And the best thing he could muster up as a response.

His wife saw his reaction and quickly reworded her previous announcement in an unusual display of care for her husband's "fragile feelings". "We're not having them _now_ ; it's just that _one day_ we might need to think about it. We both know that our boss is a bitch and we want to move to some nice place where we're _not_ corporate drones but don't you ever think…you know… _children_ might fit into that equation? At least, one day? We need to plan this and shit. We're both fucked up people and our kids probably will be too, but we at least need a general plan about how this is going to play out." Nice, her inner Blossom was…no pun intended…finally blossoming. She saw that her husband wasn't appreciating it, though.

His brows knit in confusion, a bit of anger, and…apprehension?

"Where did _this_ come from?" He practically spat at her. Buttercup recoiled in shock. She was taken aback. She had no idea he was going to react this way. His usually unworried face was a molten anger she didn't even know existed in her pushover giant of a husband. Well, shit. He might as well have said, 'fuck children'. It – ignoring her pride – was one of the scariest things she'd ever seen from the big ball of fluff. It worried her, both his reaction and his sudden, intense hatred of children, but soon his eyes softened.

"Shit, I'm sorry Buttercup. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. It's just… You know…" His awkward and apologetic stuttering (begrudgingly) warmed her heart and she released a sigh of forgiveness. Her eyes shifted to a hidden calendar hanging just behind Butch's oblivious head where a very special week was highlighted and crossed out.

"It's alright, Butch. It's fine. We can always talk about this another time." He let out a breath of relief.

"Yeah, another time. Anyways…let's focus on something more important, shall we?" He snuck another mischievous grin before he kissed her.

* * *

"Well, shit, man. She's talking about kids now? Soon she'll be talking about painting a room, trying for a baby, and lo' an' behold, a constant source of stress."

Butch stared moodily into his almost empty drink. It wasn't nearly enough. "I know, right? I don't know where that bullshit came from."

His redheaded partner snorted at his statement. "Marriage. It all stemmed from marriage. You just have to be married and then the woman keeps bugging you to 'do this' and 'do that' and children. You know I was against marrying her from the start, right? Is this an appropriate moment to say 'I told you so'?"

Butch scowled at the bar's unoffending wood counter as another drink came to meet him. "Brick, you're a bastard. Why don't _you_ try marrying BC's sister then, huh, mister know-it-all?"

If he had been paying any attention to his redheaded brother, he would've seen something flicker in his russet eyes so very un-Brick-like that it would've blown him away. As it was, though, the poor counter was currently getting the stare down of the century.

The redhead sniffed. "Please, like I would go anywhere near that bitch. She's disagreeable, unpleasant, and arrogant. I would have to be in a _very_ abysmal situation to even _date_ the fiend."

"The same could be said of you." The brunet muttered.

"What was that?" The redhead's sharp ears noticed the comment well enough but chose to specifically ignore the connection between him and that _bitch_. Ugh, no need to ruin today too, by thinking about her.

The redhead shifted his attention to his more demanding (and far more pleasant, in his opinion, albeit, barely) problem. The brunet, he noticed, was unusually quiet. _Huh, the stress of being at the beck and call of an indescribably contemptible oaf must be finally getting to him._ Even the _sister_ , a grievously air-polluting cretin, was better than the loud-mouth, orgy of detestable vileness that his brother called a _wife_. She was _disgusting_. They fit beautifully together. He shuddered to think about what their current living standard was; both were pigs. _But_ he was being the supportive and helpful brother right now so…

Ugh, this was _definitely_ a role better fit to Boomer. He didn't understand how the blond managed to listen to people whine about their problems for a _living_. _I should really treat him better,_ Brick thought idly, _or at least commemorate him, or something. This is fucking hard. Ugh, why did this have to happen when he's off on a honeymoon with his blonde retard?_

His internal grumbling was halted as he saw his brother summon _another_ drink. For the thirteenth time. "Whoa, shit. Slow down there, Butch. As much as I would like to point out your current idiocy, I still give two shits about you. All that alcohol isn't, by any means, good for your health. Or, at the very least, it will make you do something so unpalatably stupid, I'll disown you as a brother.

"But Butters wants kidsss…" The brunet moaned, undoubtedly stoned. "And – and, I DON'T –"

The redhead rolled his eyes as he kept his idiot of a brother from falling off his stool. "Yes, yes, we're all well aware of your aversion to commitment."

"N-no, I want kids one day but I'll fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup." Dangling off of a bar stool while holding onto a hammered 210 pound man was not a preferable situation to be in, by any means, Brick decided.

"Of course you'll fuck up. It's pretty much a given. All parents fuck up, some more than others, but that's life. You and your psychopath may not be the best parents in the world but at least you two care. That's better than a good thirty-five percent of people these days. Look, you're already ahead of the game." Brick could hardly believe that he was stuck hanging off of a bar stool for dear life, giving life advice to an overgrown man and his childish problems. Never had he sunk so low. "Now, care to get off me?"

Instead, the intoxicated beluga whale continued to cling onto his unamused brother. "Oh, you're so sweet, brother." He sobbed into his brother's (now quite ruined) button-up shirt. "Sometimes I actually think you have a heart."

"Thanks." Brick said drily as he peeled his brother off of him. "I think it's time that you should be heading home." The next few minutes became a fight to drag Butch to the car. One satisfying slam of a car door later, Brick slid into the driver's seat, his brother duct-taped onto the backrow seats.

"Whhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyy," Butch whined. Brick felt a vein bulge. _Boomer deserves a medal – no, scratch that, a trophy._

"Just shut-up and let me get you to that irredeemably repulsive swine you call a wife so I can finally be done with your crap."

Butch giggled. "You said 'swine'."

"Argh!" With an infuriated cry, Brick slammed onto the gas pedal and got going before he properly castrated the fool.

* * *

"Here's your oaf of a husband." Brick said darkly as he transferred his brother to his _loving wife's_ "capable" hands. He promptly left, hoping that, if he had any luck in the world, to _never_ be given the abominable task of caring for his brother _ever_ again.

"Butch!" Buttercup cried as Brick sped off.

"Huh, Butters?" Butch slurred drowsily. "Where am I? Where's the round puppy?"

Buttercup pursed her lips in an attempt to negate the laughter threatening to burst at her husband's ridiculous state. _I'll take a picture, it'll last longer,_ she promised herself.

* * *

"Huh!? I never did that! Seriously – stop laughing! I thought you guys were supposed to be my loving grandchildren or something!?" Butch exclaimed wildly.

"Grandpa, Grandpa," one jade-eyed child giggled while tugging on his grandfather's coat, "Grandma said that she took a picture, is that true?"

"What!? No, it's not true! I deny even the existence that this experience ever happened."

"Oh, it's true alright," Buttercup said, mischief glittering in her eyes, "Here." She handed her gaggle of grandchildren the special photo. It created an instant uproar among the children.

"Come on, mom." A dark-haired beauty said, flustered. "You didn't have to show them the Photo. Dad was butt-naked!"

Butch glowed a bright red and stomped out of the room, muttering 'stupid goddamn women' and 'always bullying me, why did I marry her', and similar sentiments.

"And from that story, kids," Buttercup continued cheerfully, "you can learn three things. One, don't get Butch-drunk. Or you'll end up like Butch. Two, don't test your great aunt and uncle's wrath. They're two of a kind, those redheads. And three, that's the story of why we had you guys, both directly and indirectly, in the first place. Oh, and maybe you should also take away that you should _always_ take pictures of embarrassing moments of your spouse. It's a frighteningly beautiful thing later when you're recounting stories with _your_ children and grandchildren."

"Mom…"

"Don't 'Mom' me, Brooke; I brought you into this world I can definitely take you out of it. And get Mickey's ass in here, I want to see who my youngest daughter is marrying."

"Mom, the children."

"The children can get their asses closer, too. Kids, make that five things you should take away from this story. Number five; count on your lucky stars because marriage, like life, is a bittersweet thing."


End file.
